


Never Was

by emani-writes (Thrsdynxt)



Series: The Hermione Chronicles [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Crushes, F/M, Feelings, First Kiss, Friendship, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, Jealousy, POV Alternating, Rejection, Sibling bond, Teen Angst, that terribly awkward feeling when friends like one another at different times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:14:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24447154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thrsdynxt/pseuds/emani-writes
Summary: Harry Potter and Hermione Granger each have a crush on the other. Just never at the same time. They eventually figure out they're better as friends.
Series: The Hermione Chronicles [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/621910
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Never Was

**Author's Note:**

> Word Count: 2,675
> 
> Original Posting Date on FFN: 11/2/2016

Hermione Granger was beside herself. Never in her nearly twelve years had she ever had the opportunity to actually meet someone she’d read about in one of her innumerable books. 

Granted, Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, supposed savior of the wizarding world at the age one, didn’t really have the look of a hero. He was scrawny, not nearly so tall as a hero should be. And his clothes were rather ratty and torn, nothing so fine as the robes of the heros in the fairy tale she would read as a child.

Logically, Hermione understood that those other heroes were fantasies. Exaggerations her mother had explained, a prop used by storytellers the world over to make their fables more interesting. Unfortunately, the reality left a bitter taste in her mouth that she vowed to resolve to the best of her ability. It really wasn’t fair of her to make too hasty a judgement even if the books had led her to believe Harry Potter was wizarding royalty, on par with Princes William and Harry. In fact, she decided, rather proudly, Harry’s appearance and apparent lack of knowledge of the wizarding world in general simply added to his appeal. Made him more relatable. He was like her. New to it all, just now learning his way in this exciting, new world. 

She, Hermione Jean Granger, was on equal footing with the Boy-Who-Lived. 

This was an opportunity she was not going to squander. Certainly not. Rather, Hermione resolved, she was going to dedicate herself even more to her studies. Surely, he (and many others) would be impressed with how quickly she picked up the material after having believed for her whole life up to this point that magic was the stuff of fantasy. Maybe, just maybe, Hermione secretly hoped, she could even help Harry. 

She flushed brightly at the idea. Obviously a wizard so naturally gifted wouldn’t need her help. But still, she wondered. At the very least, he was polite. All the more so when compared to the ginger-headed dunderhead he’d sat with on the Hogwarts Express. Who, she wondered absently, cared so little about their appearance they didn’t bother to clean their face? Harry Potter had a clean face, even if his glasses had needed fixed. 

The train lurched, slowing as they approached the station. Butterflies erupted in Hermione’s stomach at all the wonderful things she might see. What house might she be in? What house might Harry be in? Hermione nearly squealed in anticipation. Taking a moment to compose herself (“Keep it together, Hermione.”), she sent up a silent prayer to the magical gods, whoever they may be, that she was placed in the same house as Harry Potter. 

From here on out, her life was going to be wonderful. Hermione just knew it.

-HP-HG-

What really cemented Hermione’s feelings for Harry Potter was the night he rescued her from the troll. Of course, Ronald Weasley was there too, despite having been so cruel to her hours before. She supposed she could forgive him his crass words since he had helped. Begrudgingly. And she had lied on his behalf, but really! That was more for Harry’s benefit than Ronald Weasley. Because if any one of them deserved to have their life threatened by the worst smelling creature she’d ever had the misfortune to behold, it was that pig headed prat. Followed very closely by Draco Malfoy, the tosser. 

But Harry. It was so very difficult for Hermione to keep her feelings in check. She’d never had anyone she’d call a true friend before and here she was, practically best mates with her crush. She fantasized, sometimes. About confessing her feelings for him and Harry telling her he fancied her as well. Then maybe he might hold her hand between classes or while they studied together in the library. 

But no, she thought. She may wish that Harry fancied her, but it certainly wasn’t worth risking her friendship with him. Or Ron either, she supposed. Because even if she was included now, it was still blatantly obvious they would choose each other over her. Better if she pretended she never had those feelings at all.

-HP-HG-

Strange, deep emotions churned through Harry’s guts after the successful trip with Hermione’s time turner. 

Sirius was safe. 

Buckbeak was safe. 

Professor Lupin was a werewolf. 

Hermione… Hermione was brilliant. There was no other way to describe her. Harry knew, had known in fact since no longer than a month into his experience at Hogwarts, that Hermione Granger was the smartest, most hard working person he’d ever had the chance to meet. And nothing proved that more than that she’d so willingly put herself at risk to help him save Sirius. And yes, while the disappointment of Pettigrew getting away burned hotly in his chest, he in no way blamed Hermione. If anyone was at fault, it was Snape. 

It was late. Harry felt like he’d been up for days, and thanks to the time turner, he nearly had. But despite the weariness threatening to settle in as the adrenaline wore off, Harry couldn’t take his eyes from Hermione as she, with the patience of a saint Harry thought, explained the night’s adventures to a skeptical and perhaps slightly drugged Ron. Bright, unfiltered moonlight shone through the Infirmary windows, highlighting her wild hair and pretty features.

Harry started at that thought. Pretty. Hermione was pretty. Harry didn’t understand how he’d never noticed before, too caught up, he supposed, in just how clever she was. But tonight, after she’d helped him save the only connection to his family he’d ever found. Harry’s chest hurt at the marade of feelings swirling in there. Feelings he didn’t understand and couldn’t readily identify. 

Except for one. 

Harry Potter thought Hermione Granger was pretty. 

He flushed, thankful for the washed out sliver of the moon, hoping desperately it hid his blushing cheeks. So lost in his thought, it took him a while to realize Ron had spoken.

Harry felt his flush heat up down his collar, blinking owlishly at his two best mates who stared back at him with a look of concern and annoyance respectively. Harry coughed awkwardly to clear the embarrassed lump in his throat. “Sorry?” 

“Alright, Harry?” Hermione’s lilting tones tingled through his system before settling tight and warm in his belly. 

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Harry huffed, running a hand through his dirty hair.

“I asked if you were going to be staying with Sirius, mate. Where were you just now?” Ron asked, brows drawn together in mild irritation and confusion. 

“No where,” Harry said quickly, hoping to cover his embarrassment. From the look Hermione shot him, he wasn’t doing a great job. “Just tired,” he winced, hoping Ron would drop it. “And Sirius did offer to let me come live with him after this all got sorted,” Harry quickly put in when it seemed that Ron was about to speak again. Harry smiled, before it suddenly dimmed. “But that was before…” His shoulders slumped as the weight of losing Pettigrew finally fully settled around him. 

Hermione cut in then, trying to smile reassuringly. “You should speak with Professor Dumbledore, Harry. He knows Sirius is innocent. Perhaps he could make the arrangements?”

Harry smiled wanly. Yes. Trust brilliant, clever Hermione to know just what to do. He would go to Dumbledore. First thing in the morning. And just maybe, Hermione could come visit him over the summer hols.

-HP-HG-

It hadn’t worked out, much to Harry’s unending disappointment. Sirius was a fugitive. It was much too dangerous for him to attempt to care for a teenager while on the run himself. The home of his uncle and aunt offered him protections. And the icing on the cake, the excuse that really got under Harry’s skin: didn’t Harry agree that his relatives must miss him dreadfully? If he hadn’t been trying so hard to fight back his tears of disappointment, he might have laughed. Or broken something. And the worst of it, the absolute worst? Harry hadn’t gotten to see Hermione nearly all summer. At least, not until just before the Quidditch World Cup where he’d spent the better part of his time silently seething every time Fred Bloody Weasley would so much as approach Hermione. 

Harry wasn’t blind. It certainly seemed to him that the older boy was flirting with and teasing Hermione every chance he got, and for her part, Harry thought uncharitably, it didn’t seem as if Hermione was trying to dissuade him of the notion.

Well, fine then. If that was how it was going to be. And to really top everything off, Ron, too, seemed to be doing far more than his fair share of staring at Hermione in ways that seemed to make her uncomfortable. She would be reading at the breakfast table as she always did when her head would dart up to catch Ron looking. Her cheeks would flush and she would seem to curl into herself, often crossing her arms across her chest as if to hide herself from him. And Harry would crow with victory inside his own head, only for Fred to plop himself down and Hermione’s cheeks would darken still, but her posture would relax, and she’d shyly tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes cutting over to the stocky red-head. 

Without Quidditch to take his mind off things, Harry lamented this year was going to be one series of frustrations after another. 

Then his name was pulled from the Goblet of Fire. And unsurprisingly, Hermione practically moved into the library in her attempts to research every way she could to keep him alive. Just thinking about it made Harry’s chest feel light.

And that is exactly where he found her a few weeks before the Yule Ball, working on a Charms essay at her favorite table near the back of the library where the less-studious students rarely ventured. 

Harry sat across from her, returning the warm smile she graced him with before ducking her head back down to continue scribbling furiously. 

Pulling out his own parchment and quills, Harry made a pretense of working on his essay as he gave himself a quick pep talk. 

“Hey Hermione?” he said, hoping for casual though his voice came out strained.

Hermione paused what she was doing, finger marking the point in the passage she’d been scanning before Harry’s interruption. “Yes, Harry? Do you need help with something?”

Harry felt his neck flush and he quickly averted his eyes. “Not exactly.” Harry tapped his quill in agitation. “See, as a Champion, I’m required to bring a date, right?”

Hermione stared at him incredulously for a moment. “Yes, Harry. I told you that weeks ago.”

“Right.” Harry scratched the back of his neck. “Right.” He let out a puff of air. “Well, I was hoping that you would attend. With me. I was hoping..” Harry stuttered and stumbled over, the words wheezing out tightly at the end as Hermione’s face seemed to fall. “Or perhaps not,” he mumbled, worried a moment that his face might burst into fiendfyre.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione whined, flapping her hands in agitation. “Harry, someone’s already asked me and I agreed.”

Harry’s eyes shot up to meet hers in surprise. “Was it Fred?”

Hermione blinked at him. “Fred? What?”

“Ron?”

She shook her head emphatically. “No, Harry. It wasn’t…”

“Who?” 

Frozen by his icy tone, Hermione stared at Harry with hurt welling in her soft brown eyes, before she pulled herself up, sniffing imperiously. She began packing up her bag in quick, concise movements, clearly brimming with anger.

“Well,” she snipped, and Harry winced. “If you’re going to be like that about it, I’d rather not say if it’s all the same to you.” She stood from her seat, shoving her chair in with a loud grinding, and glared down at Harry. “Best of luck to you finding a date.” And in a whirl of robes, she stormed off. 

Dread filled Harry at her brusque departure, and Harry hung his head shame.

-HP-HG-

“It wasn’t your fault, Harry,” Hermione attempted to comfort him after finally managing to arrive at 12 Grimmauld Place after the start of the Christmas hols and following the attack on Mr.Weasley. 

“If anything, you saved his life. Everyone says so.”

Harry didn’t answer, only scowled down into his bucket of soapy water. Mrs.Weasley had enlisted the help of the resident teens to clean out all manner of magical pest, but somehow Harry had been relegated to scrubbing the floors. He couldn’t seem to help his guilty conscience equating the job to a punishment meant to remind him just how bad life at number 4 was in comparison. 

“Harry,” Hermione’s chiding tone cut through his self-recriminations, and he glanced at her guiltily. 

Seeming to take pity on him, Hermione set aside her own wash rag before crawling over to him and pulling him into a hug. She pulled his head to her shoulder, rubbing his back soothingly and Harry felt himself relax into her embrace. As if of their own accord, his arms rose to wrap themselves around her, pulling her in tighter. 

They held one another for long moments, Hermione continuing to murmur reassurances all the while petting at Harry’s hair and back. Taking the rare bit of comfort, Harry buried his nose into her neck, breathing deeply before, without conscious thought, he placed a small thank you kiss on the juncture of her neck and shoulder. 

Startled, Hermione stilled a moment before urging him away from her to look questioningly into his eyes. “Harry?” she breathed, breath ghosting over Harry’s face a moment before he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. 

Hermione squeaked in surprise, though she relaxed into the kiss soon enough. Neither teen made any attempt to move, simply kneeling awkwardly on the floor with their mouths flush. Harry pulled away first, humming.

“Harry,” Hermione asked, tone cautious and unsure. She touched fingertips to her own lips. “Did that… was that..”

“Weird?” Asked Harry. Flushing and running a hand through his shaggy hair.

Hermione let out a relieved chuckle. “Yes. Sort of like greeting my Nan.”

Huffing in mock offence, Harry crossed his arms, before shooting a daggered glare. “I don’t think it was as bad as all that,” he declared hotly before reassuring Hermione with a smile. “But I agree. It felt like I was kissing my sister. If I had a sister,” he muttered the last, lips twerked in contemplation. 

Hermione nodded emphatically. “It’s kind of a relief actually.”

“How do you figure?”

Hermione scooted around until her back was toward the closest piece of furniture in the room, knees bent before her. “Well,” she stated in a rush. “I know that you’re very important to me, Harry. But I haven’t felt as though it was a… romantic sort of love since fourth year.”

Harry startled. “Are you saying you fancied me fourth year?”

“No,” Hermione said, crossing her arms defensively. “I’m saying I haven’t fancied you since fourth year. I actually fancied you first year, and maybe a bit again in fourth until you were a right prat.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, scrubbing his face with his hands. “Sorry about that.” He pushed her shoulder lightly. “At least I wasn’t so bad as Ron?” He asked hopefully, grinning mischievously. 

“Worse,” Hermione laughed, squealing when Harry pushed her over onto the dusty floor. She righted herself, brushing off the dirt with a last chuckle. They sat in companionable silence for a long moment.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever wish you’d had a sibling?”

Harry sniffed, shrugging his shoulders as he looked away to hide the tightness in his eyes. “Yeah.”

“Me too.”

The silence now stretched uncomfortably between them, until, “Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“How about for Christmas this year we declare ourselves siblings?”

Hermione flushed when Harry fixed her with an intense gaze, before he settled down next to her, leaning his head on her shoulder. “Yeah, Hermione. I think I’d like that very much.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make the world go round and possibly lead to other pairings.


End file.
